other, and for the same cause that has wrought most of the evil in the
world. Over the love of a woman they fought. Peter carried a
blackthorn stick that ought never to have been in my house--you know,
for you brought it to me--and struck his cousin with it, and at the
same instant was pushed over the brink, as Richard intended."

"How do you know that Richard was not pushed over? How do you know
that he did not fall over with his cousin? How can you dare work for a
man's conviction on such slight evidence?"

"How do I know? Although you would favor that--that--although--" The
Elder paused and struggled for control, then sat weakly down and took
up the argument again with trembling voice. "Mr. Ballard, I would
spare you--much of this matter which has been brought to my
knowledge--but I cannot--because it must come out at the trial. It was
over your little daughter, Betty, that they fought. She has known all
these years that Richard Kildene murdered her lover."

"Elder--Elder! Your brooding has unbalanced your mind."

"Wait, my friend. This falls on you with but half the burden that I
have borne. My son was no murderer. Richard Kildene is not only a
murderer, but a coward. He went to your daughter while we were
dragging the river for my poor boy's body, and told her he had
murdered her lover; that he pushed him over the bluff and that he
intended to do so. Now he adds to his crime--by--coming here--and
pretending--to be--my son. He shall hang. He shall hang. If he does
not, there is no justice in heaven." The Elder looked up and shook his
hand above his head as if he defied the whole heavenly host.

Bertrand Ballard sat for a moment stunned. Such a preposterous turn
was beyond his comprehension. Strangely enough his first thought was a
mere contradiction, and he said: "Men are not hung in this state. You
will not have your wish." He leaned forward, with his elbows on the
great table and his head in his hands; then, without looking up, he
said: "Go on. Go on. How did you come by this astounding information?
Was it from Betty?"

"Then may he be shut in the blackest dungeon for the rest of his life.
No, it was not from Betty. Never. She has kept this terrible secret
well. I have not seen your daughter--not--since--since this was told
me. It has been known to the detective and to my attorney, Milton
Hibbard, for two years, and to me for one year--just before I offered
the increased reward to which you so object. I ha